A Love Like This
by RidersOnTheStorm
Summary: The loud and obnoxious iPhone text tone rang through the flat. John glanced up from his paper, turning his head to look at Sherlock, who was still immersed in studying something through the microscope. There was a still silence, as Sherlock continued to work, seemingly unaware of any change. John rolled his eyes. And the Johnlock begins.
1. Chapter 1

The loud and obnoxious iPhone text tone rang through the flat. John glanced up from his paper, turning his head to look at Sherlock, who was still immersed in studying something through the microscope. There was a still silence, as Sherlock continued to work, seemingly unaware of any change. John rolled his eyes.

"Sherlock?"

"Yes John?" Sherlock didn't even glance up from his study, his eyes fixed to the microscope. John sighed.

"You do realise that was your phone?"

"Can you grab it for me?"

John sighed, lowering his paper with a rustle, and swept his eyes across the room. Desk, bookshelf, armchair. The phone was nowhere in sight.

"Where is it?"

"In my pocket."

"In your pocket?" John stressed every syllable in disbelief. Was there any length that this man would go to so that he did not have to take a break from his work?

"Yes in my pocket, can you grab it for me?"

John basically threw done his paper as he stood with a sigh and walked over to Sherlock. A million arguments as to why he shouldn't get his phone out of his own bloody pocket had whizzed through his mind, but he decided it was pointless to even bother to argue. He walked over to Sherlock who was standing in the kitchen, studying what appeared to be part of human skin under the microscope. He roughly shoved his hand in his coat pocket, his fingers brushing only thin air.

"Trouser pocket," Sherlock said, still not even glancing from his work.

John rolled his eyes and shoved his hand in Sherlock's trouser pocket. Sherlock stilled suddenly, his fingers no longer moving over the microscope's controls. John swallowed, his heart starting to beat a little faster. A strange silence had settled over the two, John's hand reeling from Sherlock's body heat, as he realised quickly that he was standing much too close to Sherlock, his coat was brushing his shoulder. Neither of them moved, both trapped in the feeling of chemistry between them. Sherlock cleared his throat, glancing up from the microscope, forcing John back into his senses. With a slightly shaking hand he pulled the phone from Sherlock's pocket, and stepped a good distance away from Sherlock. He read the message quickly.

"It's Greg," he said, glancing at Sherlock. "He wants us at the station, now."

"Greg?" Sherlock asked, sounding confused.

John sighed.

"Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade?" The one we've been working with for the past ten cases?" John said smartly, sarcasm dripping from every word.

"Oh, I thought his name was Gavin?"

John shock his head, as Sherlock stared quizzically at him, looking genuinely confused.

"Come on," he said, grabbing his coat and shrugging it on as he followed Sherlock out the front door.


	2. Chapter 2

The rain was pattering lightly down on the roof, as the sun began to sink, casting the house in a dull darkness. It may only be four in the afternoon, but in London that's when the night began. John stoked the fire thoughtfully, while Sherlock studied a network of photographs on the wall. He wasn't really thinking about their connections though, for he was silent, no musing out loud, or moving the photographs.

"John," he said suddenly, causing him to jump a little. He wasn't used to hearing the silence be broken so loud or clearly.

"Yeah?"

"Can you grab my phone for me?"

John glanced around the room, looking for a trace of the device.

"Pocket," Sherlock said, quietly, his voice with a slight husky tone to it.

John swallowed, as he turned to face the slender figure of Sherlock, still turned away from him and towards the wall. The memory from a few weeks ago flashed back, the one where John was standing too close, that feeling of chemistry between them. Slowly, he took a cautious step towards Sherlock, and then another. His heart was starting to hammer in his chest. Gently he reached Sherlock, and slipped his hand in his coat pocket, being sure to leave enough room between the two of them.

"Not my coat, John," Sherlock all but whispered.

Swallowing another lump yet again, John slowly slipped his hand into Sherlock's trouser pocket. The same stillness came over Sherlock, and the same emptiness met John's grasp. He looked up at Sherlock, a questioning look on his face. Sherlock had his eyes closed, almost as if in pleasure.

"Other pocket," he breathed, his lips parting lightly, as John reached around into his other pocket. They were close now, their fronts almost touching. John's breathing was heavy, his heart racing. To his surprise, he could feel Sherlock's heavy breathing brush over his hair. He couldn't move, he was frozen, in so close, but yet so far away.

Sherlock placed his hand gently on John's cheek, making him jump a little in surprise. He instinctively rest his head against the long violinist's hand, as his thumb brushed over his cheek gently. He let out a quiet, strangled moan. Sherlock tilted his head up slightly.

"John, look at me," he said, his voice low, commanding.

John raised his eyes slowly, travelling over Sherlock's chest, neck, and finally meeting those beautiful blue eyes. John glanced down at Sherlock's lips, he was biting them softly, before glancing back into his eyes. He gasped, Sherlock's eyes were so much darker. He stepped forward slowly, forcing John backwards, who was still starting captivated into his eyes. He kept moving forward, pushing him even further back still, until he was bumped against the wall, Sherlock stepped closer again, and they were almost completely pressed together.

"Sherlock-" He started softly.

But he didn't finish the sentence.

Sherlock moved his other hand to his face, and very slowly he leaned forward and kissed John. John was still for a moment, shock whirling over him. He felt Sherlock stop suddenly, realising he wasn't getting the reaction he'd hoped for. He went to pull away from, put John threw his arms around his neck, and pulled him against him, and kissed him madly. Sherlock's hands moved from his face to his waist, pulling him as close as he could, a soft moan building in the back of his throat. John gasped, as he felt a certain hardens in Sherlock's trousers, that he was pretty sure wasn't his phone. Sherlock took the opportunity to gently slide his tongue in his mouth. John moaned, Sherlock tasted like sweet coffee.

They broke apart gently, and Sherlock rested his forehead against John's, panting lightly, well aware of how hard John was.

"Where the bloody hell did you learn to do that?" John asked, making Sherlock chuckle gently.

"Natural instinct," he said, and lifted John into the air.


	3. Chapter 3

John gasped again, and wrapped his legs around Sherlock's waist, his fingers weaving into his soft curls. Sherlock kissed him again, but this time it was rougher, as he carried him into his bedroom. He lay him on the bed, not breaking their kiss once as he crawled on top of him. John's fingers left his hair, and he gently trailed them down his chest, pushing his coat off his shoulders. Sherlock moaned, his lips leaving John's, and starting again on his neck. John fumbled with Sherlock's shirt buttons, in too much of a hurry for his own good. Sherlock sat up, unbuttoned the last couple of buttons and slid his shirt off.

John trailed his eyes over his slim figure, and Sherlock began to unbutton his shirt. He was calm and steady, and soon John was shirtless as well. Sherlock leaned down and kissed his chest softly, and John curled his fingers back into his hair.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Sherlock asked, his kisses moving slowly down his chest.

John moaned.

"Of course I do."

He felt Sherlock smile against his skin.

"Good," he said softly.

He continued to move down John's chest, reaching his stomach. His fingers deftly unbuttoned his pants, but John noticed that his hands were shaking slightly. He wondered briefly if he'd ever done this before, but decided that was a question for another time. Sherlock slid his trousers down, and he kicked them off gently. Sherlock's teeth grazed lightly against the waist band of his underwear. Lightly, he trailed his tongue over John's hard erection, the only thing between them the thin material. John moaned, pushing his hips up, pushing Sherlock's head down.

Ever so slowly, Sherlock pulled his underwear off. John was panting now, needing this release. Sherlock went back to John's snail trail, and gently moved down, until he was almost there. John waited in anticipation, and groaned loudly as Sherlock moved suddenly to his knee, and began kissing up his thigh slowly.

"Please Sherlock," he moaned, his hips twitching and flexing on their own.

"Patience John," he murmured, continuing to kiss his thigh.

Ever so gently, he ran his tongue up John's cock. He moaned softly, and gently pushed Sherlock's head down. He started sucking, moving his head up and down. John groaned, thrusting his hips up to meet Sherlock's eager lips.

_Fuck he's good at this_, he thought absentmindedly. His fingers curled in his hair, and he started to push Sherlock's head down further and further with every stroke. He moaned suddenly, thrusting his hips up and forcing Sherlock's head all the way down. He gagged gently, but he was determined to take it all. He glanced up and John, his eyes dark and seductive as he took it all.

"Oh fuck, Sherlock," he groaned, knowing that he was going to finish soon at this rate.

Sherlock moved suddenly, and was hovering right above John, kissing him like he was drowning and John was oxygen.

"Roll over," he commanded huskily, breaking their kiss. John rolled over, nerves exploding suddenly through him.

This was something new. Sherlock reached over to his side draw, and grabbed a tube.

"Is this okay?" Sherlock whispered in his ear gently, biting the top of his ear softly. John groaned and nodded.

"Please," he panted softly, feeling Sherlock rub some lube on him.

"Please what?" Sherlock murmured, and John could feel him rubbing lube on himself.

"Please fuck me," he whispered. He never imagined himself begging, but Sherlock had his ways.

"If you insist," he smirked, and very carefully, he lined up his cock. John wondered vaguely when his pants had come off.

John was panting softly, anticipation coursing through is veins. Slowly, Sherlock pushed the tip in. John flexed his muscles instinctively, gasping as a slight thrill of pain and pleasure ran through him.

"Loosen up John, don't worry I won't hurt you," Sherlock groaned, falling forward and kissing John's shoulder.

John relaxed, and gently Sherlock pushed in further, making him moan softly. He started pulling out slowly, before pushing back in. Carefully he pushed more and more of his cock in every stroke, until he couldn't help it, and he pushed the last couple of inches in in one thrust. John gasped, and fell onto his elbows, as Sherlock gasped.

"Oh John you're so tight. And you took it all," he moaned in wonder, as he started to fuck John slowly.

John groaned, as this new sensation rolled over him. He started pushing back to meet Sherlock.

"Faster," he moaned.

Sherlock didn't answer instead he picked up his pace, slamming into John, as he grabbed his short blonde hair in his fist. John gasped, and started to rub his own cock.

"Oh my God Sherlock," he moaned.

Sherlock groaned loudly, thrusting harder into him.

"Oh John," he moaned, his finger's tightening his hold of his hair. "I'm going to cum so hard inside of you."

John groaned as he started to cum, his body twitching. He vaguely heard Sherlock cry out his name, as he came inside of him. The two collapsed, and Sherlock kissed John's shoulder gently. He pulled his throbbing cock out of him slowly, causing John's eyes to flutter closed as he moaned. Sherlock rolled off him, and for a heart-breaking second John thought he was going to get up and leave. Instead, he wrapped his arms around John and pulled him on top of him, hugging him tightly. The two just lay there, catching their breaths.

It grew cold slowly, and Sherlock pulled one of his blankets over the two of them.

"I guess we won't be needing the upstairs room anymore," Sherlock murmured gently, as John nuzzled his head into his shoulder.

"What- you want me to move into your room? With you?" John asked, his heart thumping happily with hope.

"Well, I- I mean, only if you, you know, want to," Sherlock stuttered, cursing himself for bringing that up so soon.

John pulled himself up so he could look into Sherlock's eyes.

"Sherlock, I would love to," he said simply, and leaned down to kiss him. Sherlock weaved his fingers through John's hair, and the other pulled him closer as it wrapped around his waist.

"That's good, I've wanted to for a while," Sherlock admitted, and John went back to leaning in his shoulder. He could feel Sherlock's heart beating quickly.

"Me too," he murmured sleepily, as he started to fall asleep. Sherlock smiled softly, brushing John's hair, as the two fell asleep for the first, but certainly not last, time together.


End file.
